


Nesting

by HeadJams



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadJams/pseuds/HeadJams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For 'Amass the Hoard: Firezalmighty Edition'.</p>
<p>Matt wanting to stop and build something wasn't strange or unusual. Matt wanting to stop and build a house to live in 'just for a little while' was Phil's first clue that his friend wasn't feeling quite right.</p>
<p>Tagged as Mature but could get Explicit in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nesting

Matt let out a shriek, or it was more like a squawk really, but it ended in “Phil!”

He hadn’t expected the blacksmith to be instantly there, fighting off the zombie, unarmed and unarmoured. But as he looked over the crest of the hill they’d chosen to build their home on it didn’t occur to him. There were more coming.

It was a blur.

And he didn’t know how.

But the zombies were gone.

Phil was there, offering his hand to him where he’d curled up in a ball on the ground next to the glint weed.

And the sun was rising.

Phil was battered and bruised and bleeding, but it didn’t show in his smile, telling him that it was alright, as the no longer reanimated corpses of zombies burned in the sun and turned to ash that was carried away on the wind.

“Let’s get this house built.” he’d said.

And they did.

They built their house out of the ugly wood in the biome around them and Matt swore he was going to chop down some of the spruce wood trees they could see on the horizon and drag them back here.

Before they knew it, night was falling, and they had to very quickly patch up the ceiling with planks and cobble, the roof could wait till tomorrow.

Matt curled up in a ball on the floor to sleep before Phil could offer him the only bed they had at the moment.

It wasn’t long after they’d both drifted off to sleep before the noise started.

Zombies, thumping and banging on the door, demanding entry.

Phil shifted and rolled over in his sleep, sure the zombies were loud, but they were downstairs and outside, and he had a sword now and some rudimentary armour he’d taken as trophies from the zombies the previous night. So even if they did get in they didn’t stand a chance anyway.

Matt wasn’t nearly as calm about the situation. Curled up on the floor, as tense as he was cold, feathers stood on end, eyes unblinking fixed on the stairs, just waiting.

“Go to sleep.” Phil mumbled from the bed “You’re safe.” he reminded him.

Matt didn’t respond, didn’t pretend to sleep either, he should have, because only moments later Phil got out of bed and plucked up his bow from where it rested against the wall, and a handful of arrows from the quiver.

He opened the window and leaned out.

Three arrows later. Silence.

A gurgled groan of a zombie echoed in the distance.

Fourth arrow. Silence again.

There was a clatter of bones from a skeletal archer.

Fifth arrow. Silence.

He waited for a moment or two longer, looking out into the darkness for anything else that threatened the silence. Then he set down the bow, put away the arrows and stood next to Matt.

Matt looked up at him with wide eyes, even in the low light of the glint weed he could see the dark bruises on his arms, accompanied by cuts and grazes.

Phil was wounded because Matt was completely incapable of protecting himself recently and he felt horrible about it.

“Get in the damn bed Matt.” he said.

“You’re gonna sleep on the floor are you?”

“No. We’re gonna share, we’ll both fit, it’s fine.”

Colder than he was reluctant to share, Matt curled up under the blankets of the bed, not as much as he had on the floor, because he had to share. Then Phil curled around him, draping one arm over him before falling asleep unreasonably fast. Matt’s feathers bristled a moment, before he relaxed, this wasn’t so bad. He was safe here.

~~~

Phil’s steady breathing whispered through Matt’s feathers and across the bare skin of his neck.

It was distracting; Phil was distracting, being all warm and solid against him, somehow keeping them both warm.

Matt liked to think it was all the time Phil had spent in front of the forge that made him so warm all the time, working as a blacksmith’s apprentice from a young age to working as a blacksmith after his master passed away up until he left his village to travel with Matt. He’d absorbed the heat and now he was like a furnace himself, radiating heat that he didn’t feel or notice.

Saying that he didn’t find Phil attractive would be a lie, and he had no idea if sleeping like this was normal for humans, but Phil was so warm, and Matt liked the warmth, but this was too warm.

He dug his elbow into Phil’s side, gently though, he didn’t want to add to those bruises.

“Phil”

Phil made a rumbly noise and slid his arms further around Matt. The rumbly noise sounded like ‘What?’ but he couldn’t be sure.

“I’m too warm, get off me.”

“It’s freezing, what are you talking about?”

“Well I’m warm.”

“Poor Matt getting poorly?” Phil didn’t wait for an answer before resting his palm on Matt’s forehead. He’d intended to make fun of him, laying his hand vaguely laying his hand there, but when he’d felt the temperature of Matt’s skin he laid it there properly and sat up. “Are you ill, Matt?” he reiterated “You’re burning up.”

Matt laid back and looked up at him, feeling a little warmer as he did “Uhm, I feel fine, just too warm.”

Concern on his face, Phil’s hand drifted away from Matt’s forehead and across his feathers, which bristled up to meet his skin. Matt froze and then sat bolt upright, nearly knocking Phil of the bed.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor.” he rushed, clambering to untangle his legs from the blankets. Suddenly his own behaviour was making sense; suddenly struck with the desire to build them a house to live in; calling on Phil to protect him from mobs; the farm he’d set up outside and all the cooking he’d been doing.

Good god he’d been nesting.

Phil held his arms, stopping him before he could move to the floor “Matt? What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” he felt his feathers flutter under Phil’s grip as he tried to pull away.

“Matt, what is it? You can tell me.” his grip softened, and he pulled back a little. Matt kind of didn’t like that Phil wasn’t touching him anymore; he must have thought the flaring of Matt’s feathers was because he felt threatened.

“No really, I’m fine.”

Phil reached out to cradle Matt’s face in his hands. He was probably just testing his temperature, but his fingers ran so delicately over the softer skin that preceded the plumage around where his ears would be if he were human. Matt held his wrists, and felt the heavy thrum of his pulse beneath his fingers.

“Matt-”

He should have let Phil finish his sentence. He really should’ve. I might not have been important, but it certainly would’ve stopped him from doing what he did.

Matt turned his head and nuzzled Phil’s palm.

“Matt…” he repeated, his voice softer now. It was probably a strange gesture to watch, but he’d been traveling with Matt for so long now that interpreting the things he did was - by this point - second nature; he hadn’t been sure about the past few days though, not until now, and he still wasn’t positive.

Wanting to stop and build something wasn’t unusual, so wanting to stick around and live in it “just for a little while” was his first clue.

He leaned in, to nuzzle him back, pressing his nose to the base of his plumage - hoping that was the right thing to do - the soft fluff there tickled his nose. Matt sighed softly against his hand and Phil took it as an invitation.

Smoothing his hand over silken feathers that fluttered beneath his touch, Phil kissed across the sharp angle of Matt’s jaw, until he found his lips.

Phil kissed him softly, gently, like he didn’t want to spook him.

Which was Phil all over really. Not something you’d expect from a man who used to spend all day literally bending metal to his will. And that was what Matt wanted (now that he knew what he wanted at all).

He wrapped his arms around the blacksmith and knotted his fingers into his hair and pulled, helping himself to his mouth when it opened in a small “Ah.” sound. Phil responded by lifting Matt forward to sit in his lap, strong hands holding the Quetzalcoatl by his thighs as he let him take charge of the kiss.

Matt was rough, taking Phil’s bottom lip between his teeth and biting at it until Phil let out a small moan, before kissing him again, grinding against the firm muscles of his abdomen.

Phil broke away from him, mainly for air, before tipping him back onto the bed fair from gently, so he landed with a soft thud. Kneeling between his legs and looking down at him, he pulled his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. Bowing down over him, Phil kissed Matt’s bare chest, travelling up his neck seeking out a sensitive spot, huffing laughter against his skin as Matt tried to drag him closer; wrapping his legs round Phil’s hips and digging his fingers into his shoulders.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“You’re slow.” Matt pointed out.

“Then tell me what you want.”

With all his strength, Matt pulled suddenly at Phil, so he landed on him in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. “I want you to fuck me.” he said.

Phil stumbled over words for a moment “Very forward. I was getting to that, you know.”

By some feat of impressive Quetzalcoatl flexibility, Matt tugged at the waistband of Phil’s trousers with his toes; one hand busy holding Phil against him, with the other dragging it’s nails through Phil’s hair.

“Like I said,” repeated Phil, Matt’s current position fitting their hips closer together, “getting to it.” he returned his attention to Matt’s neck, biting and sucking marks into his skin. His hand drifted down Matt’s side, slipping between where their hips were pressed together to rub over Matt’s erection through his pants.

Matt bared his neck and bucked his hips in response, letting out a slow, soft moan under Phil’s ministrations; his toes, still tucked into Phil’s waistband, pulled his trousers down over his bum.

The action had been unintentional, but Phil ceased what he was doing and sat back - much to Matt’s dismay - and stood up.

“Can’t wait five minutes, can you?” Phil asked, pulling the ties loose on his trousers

“You were going to do that for five minutes?” while Matt had very much enjoyed that, any other day he would have relished hours of foreplay from Phil, but not now. Right now he wanted something else, and he would have told Phil exactly what, reiterated his earlier statement, but he was looking right at it now, behind the tent in Phil’s sleeping trousers.

“Do you really need to stare?” he demanded

Matt looked up and met Phil’s eyes in the pale orange light of the glint weed. Without breaking his gaze he slipped off the bed and dropped to his knees in front of him, replaced Phil’s hands with his own and tugged the trousers down to his knees. He didn’t look down, not yet, just watched as Phil’s breathing quickened.


End file.
